Bandages, a Punching Bag as a Chair and a Mat that is Cherry Red
by Yotsubadancesintherain5
Summary: When one of the rules instructs to keep nails trimmed and clean, there should be no reason to be treated for a scratched up hand at sparring. Written for "Take Your Fandom to Work Day."


It was unorthodox to spar without the gloves, but somehow it was exciting. The cushion of the gloves still hurt when someone punched too hard, mind, but knuckles left behind a phantom pain that would spur to be more careful. More defensive.  
Daisy had dropped down to do a low roundhouse kick and her foot dragged on the mat near the end of it. She was lucky to be wearing foot guards or else she'd have to deal with the sting of mat burn.

The match was over and she bowed to the black belt, moving down the line. She could see that the kid she was facing didn't keep his fingers entirely curled up into a fist but she put that thought away when he lunged forward to punch.

It seemed to be a routine fight, though the kid seemed to be getting angry. When he dodged one of Daisy's kicks, he reached out and grabbed her wrist. She expected to be flipped over but he opened up his hand and _raked_ his long nails down her hand, leaving four bleeding scratches.

A thousand thoughts swirled in her head but she said the most obvious one. "Cut your nails!"

The sparring came to a halt as the lead instructor told the kid to come over. The instructor's voice wasn't laced with anger but the tone told that the kid was in serious trouble.  
He was given a scolding three-fold, for not trimming his nails, going out of control and injuring someone during sparring. The kid was told to go home for the day and Daisy was allowed to stay and spar if she wanted to.

She declined, packing up her gear and heading to the bathroom to wash her hand. The kid probably didn't clean his nails.

She cut through the training room to go to the back, resisting the urge to shake her hand. She didn't want droplets of blood staining the red mat.

There was someone in the training room, with a purple belt tied around his uniform that was too bright. He had a bag slung over his shoulder.

"Oh. Hello - what happened to your hand?"

"Some kid scratched it." Daisy inspected the scratches again.

"A kid? A little one?"

"No, someone old enough to know better."

"Ah." The man dug around in his bag and brought out a package of wrap-around bandages. "Here."

Daisy took the bandages and settled down on a punching bag that was lying on the floor. She began to dress her wound, and thought about the kid. It was irritating, though the timing was all right. It was before the dojo was to be closed for renovations, but she would have preferred to not have an injury at all.

"Fight me," Daisy muttered.

"Oh, um... okay, but I need to buy the gear first."

"No, I meant..." Daisy breathed out and finished with the bandages. "So, are you waiting for an instructor or something?"

"Yeah, I was going to learn some new technique but I think they forgot about me."

Daisy laughed. She gave him back the box and stole a glance at his belt. The name was written in fresh marker and said "Luigi".

"Thanks for the bandages." Daisy started to head out of the training room to go home. "You don't have to fight me, I'd rather we go on a date." It was a half-joke.

She left before she could have a reaction and left, the sparring making itself known with loud kiyaps.

A week later, Daisy made a face at the new benches that lined up along the mat. The bottom part was brown and the top was neon yellow. It clashed with the freshly painted walls, a light blue. It clashed with the blue mat in the main room and was generally an eyesore and a "what-were-they-thinking" enigma.  
Not to mention that the women's dressing room had become a labyrinth of chairs. And nobody thought to change the lime-green walls or maroon with yellow dots carpet.

She pushed away the critiquing of the interior decorating and fixed her brown belt. The black belts were probably going to ask when she was going to test, but red belt material was the longest and most difficult list. She headed out onto the mat, bowing to the flags, and sneaked past the instructors teaching technique. There were some red belts getting technique and she hoped to not get spotted. Defense against choking meant getting two fingers jammed into the hollow of her throat.

Daisy turned in her card and kept her head down to avoid detection. She didn't notice the person walking parallel to her, until they tripped.

She flung out her arm to catch them but fell along with them. The person quickly got off her arm and asked if she was okay.

"Fine," she said as she got up. "Why were you running?" She realized that she recognized this person. What was his name, it started with an L...

"I thought I was late so I was running to get my card-"

"Stop talking and get over here, oi-sheesh!" an instructor called.

Well, there was always after class to talk.

**A/N: Originally posted on Ao3 on January 17 2017**

**Hapkido is awesome. For those who don't know, a kiyap is a yell that comes from the pit of your stomach. It's to strengthen the core and scare your opponent.**

**Never have gotten or witnessed an injury as extreme as this but I did get kicked in the face once. The funniest one was when I got kicked square in the chest during a tournament.**


End file.
